Chapter 34: The Sister's Invitation
The morning light through the kitchen window was unforgiving. It highlighted every crumb on the marble countertop, every water spot on the faucet. Aidan stood by the coffee machine, watching the dark brew drip into his mug. His body felt heavy, a vessel filled with the physical residue of the night before and a low, persistent hum of something like dread.
Or maybe it was just exhaustion.
Footsteps padded softly on the tile. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Jenny. Her hand, small and warm, slipped around his waist, and she rested her cheek against his back. “Morning,” she mumbled, her voice sleep-roughened.
“Morning.” He poured a second mug, handed it to her. She took it, leaning against the counter beside him. She wore one of his old t-shirts, which hung to her mid-thigh. Her hair was a wild, beautiful mess.
“Cat’s already up,” Jenny said, sipping. “She’s in the study, on a call. But she has an… agenda for today.”
Aidan felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “Of course she does.”
“She talked to me last night. After you went to sleep.” Jenny’s dark eyes were serious, probing. “She wants to formalize things. For Lucia. She called it ‘structured integration.’”
Before Aidan could formulate a response—a question, a protest—Catriona’s voice floated in from the hallway, bright and decisive. “There you both are. Perfect.”
She entered the kitchen, a vision of composed energy in a silk robe the color of champagne. Her auburn hair was swept up, her makeup already flawless. She went straight to the espresso machine. “Sleep well?”
“Yes,” Jenny said, too quickly.
“Aidan?” Catriona didn’t look at him, busy with the portafilter.
“Well enough.”
“Good. Because we’re starting a new routine. A morning ritual, you could say.” She finally turned, leaning back against the counter, cradling her tiny cup. “Lucia’s education can’t be sporadic. It requires consistency. Repetition builds comfort, and comfort builds skill.”
Jenny put her mug down. “What do you want us to do?”
“Us is correct. This will be a joint effort.” Catriona’s gaze moved between them. “Every morning, after breakfast, you will both attend to Aidan. Together. In his study. It’s a private, comfortable space. It sets the right tone.”
Aidan’s coffee turned acidic in his stomach. “Cat, she’s a teenager. This isn’t—”
“She is a young woman who witnessed the pinnacle of intimate connection last night,” Catriona interrupted, her tone leaving no room for debate. “She was curious, not traumatized. We nurture curiosity. We guide it. Jenny will lead, demonstrating technique. Lucia will participate at a level she finds comfortable. The goal is acclimation. The goal is to make the act of pleasing him as natural as breathing.”
The clinical language was a stark contrast to the raw reality it described. Aidan felt objectified, and yet, beneath the unease, that old, secret wire of his hummed louder. The fantasy of being served, of being the absolute focus of such devoted attention, coiled hot in his gut. It warred with the image of Lucia’s wide, uncertain eyes.
“She’ll be scared,” Jenny said softly, voicing his concern.
“Initially. That’s why you’re there. Her big sister. Her guide.” Catriona finished her espresso. “Go get dressed, Jenny. Something simple. Then fetch Lucia. Aidan, in your study in fifteen minutes. I’ll be observing from the armchair. Purely as a facilitator.”
It wasn’t a request.
Fifteen minutes later, Aidan sat in the leather chair behind his broad oak desk, the one where he usually reviewed engineering schematics. Sunlight streamed through the bay window, illuminating motes of dust in the air. The room smelled of old paper, lemon polish, and his own cologne.
Catriona sat in the wingback chair in the corner, legs crossed, a notepad on her lap as if she were at a board meeting. She gave him a small, encouraging nod.
The door opened. Jenny entered first, wearing a simple cotton sundress. She looked young and breathtakingly beautiful. Behind her, Lucia shuffled in. The girl was dressed in jeans and a loose sweater, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes were downcast, fixed on the Persian rug.
“Close the door, Jenny,” Catriona said. Her voice was gentle, but firm. “Now, Lucia. Come stand by the desk. It’s alright. No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t wish to do. This is about observation, and then maybe participation. Jenny will show you how we care for Aidan. How we show our appreciation.”
Jenny moved to stand beside Aidan’s chair. Her fingers, cool and steady, went to the button of his jeans. He felt his blood begin to pound, a heavy, insistent rhythm.
Lucia stood a few feet away, her body rigid. She watched, unblinking, as Jenny freed him. Aidan saw the girl’s breath catch as he sprang free, already thick and heavy from the anticipation and the sheer taboo of the moment.
“See?” Jenny said to her sister, her voice a low, soothing murmur. “It’s just a part of him. A beautiful part. It’s not something to be afraid of.” She leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain, and placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the tip. Aidan’s hips jerked involuntarily.
“The first touch is always reverent,” Catriona commented from her corner. “You acknowledge the gift. Then you explore.”
Jenny’s tongue darted out, a slow, languid lick from root to tip. Lucia let out a tiny, shuddering sigh.
“Her technique is flawless,” Catriona continued, her pen scratching lightly on the pad. “Note the use of the hand in tandem with the mouth. It’s about coverage, constant sensation. It’s anatomical efficiency.”
Jenny took him into her mouth, sinking down until her lips met her fist. A low groan escaped Aidan. He gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. He forced himself to look at Lucia. Her arms had uncrossed. She was leaning forward slightly, her lips parted. The fear in her eyes was being crowded out by a dark, fascinated intensity.
“Lucia,” Catriona said softly. “Would you like to try? Just with your hand. Jenny will guide you.”
For a long moment, Lucia didn’t move. Then, she gave a minute, almost imperceptible nod.
Jenny released Aidan with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lip to him. She held out her hand to her sister. “Come here. It’s just skin. Warm skin.”
Lucia moved as if in a trance. She stepped forward, her hand trembling as she reached out. Jenny gently took her wrist and guided her fingers to wrap around Aidan’s girth. The girl’s touch was feather-light, hesitant.
“That’s it,” Jenny breathed. “Feel how hard he is? That’s for us. That’s because of us. Now, move your hand. Like this.” She placed her hand over Lucia’s, demonstrating a slow, sliding stroke.
Aidan closed his eyes. The sensation was explosive, surreal. The twin pressures—Jenny’s expert mouth engulfing his head, and the novel, timid stroke of Lucia’s hand on his shaft—were dismantling his last defenses. He was a specimen, a lesson, a god.
“Good,” Catriona whispered. “Very good, Lucia. You’re a natural. Now, Jenny, let her taste. Just a taste.”
Jenny drew back again. She looked at her sister, her eyes full of a fierce, loving encouragement. “Open your mouth,” she whispered.
Lucia, her gaze locked on Aidan’s cock, glistening from her sister’s saliva, obeyed. Jenny leaned forward and guided him, rubbing the swollen head against Lucia’s lower lip, then across her tongue.
The girl’s eyes flew wide at the taste, the salt and the musk. But she didn’t pull away. Her tongue moved, a clumsy, instinctive flick.
“Yes,” Catriona hissed, her own breathing audible now. “That’s it. Share him.”
What followed was a blur of sensation and instruction. Jenny would take him deep, then pull back and let Lucia explore with her mouth, her hands, her increasingly confident tongue. The sisters worked in a silent, burgeoning tandem, their shared goal written in the tension of his body. Catriona’s commentary fell away to soft, approving sounds.
Aidan felt the climax building from a deep, tectonic place. “I’m… I’m going to…”
“Together,” Jenny commanded, pulling Lucia close. “For us. In our mouths.”
At the last second, Jenny took him back, her throat working, but she pulled Lucia’s head close, so his release spilled across both their waiting tongues and lips. It was a messy, intimate communion.
For a moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. Aidan slumped in his chair, utterly spent, hollowed out.
Jenny straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was smiling, flushed with triumph. She turned to Lucia, who was staring at the pearly streaks on her own fingers with a look of profound shock.
Catriona stood, setting her notepad aside. She walked over to the girls, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Outstanding,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “A perfect first lesson. Lucia, go clean up. Then you can help Jenny with the downstairs vacuuming.”
Lucia nodded, still silent, and slipped from the room, her movements now loose, dazed.
Catriona waited until the door clicked shut. Then she walked around the desk and sank to her knees in front of Aidan. She didn’t touch him. She just looked up at him, her green eyes blazing with a possessive, victorious fire.
“See?” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “A new tradition. Every morning. We’re building something extraordinary, my love. A real family.”
She leaned forward and placed a single, chaste kiss on his slack stomach. Then she rose, smoothed her robe, and left the room, leaving him alone in the sunlit silence, the taste of corrupt paradise still hanging in the air.